I have come back to the Friday Fictioneers world with much less sleep deprivation, so I think this piece is a bit more coherent. Hey, here’s a twist, I wrote about childhood wonder again!
But this time, it’s SAAAAAAD.
Relatively. Blame OFF, that game gives me bad ideas. Or it just makes me remember all of those ideas I saw in my dreams once and confined to the “I might be clinically insane” bin.
On that optimistic note, have fun~
Genre: Realistic fiction
Word Count: 114 (I know it’s technically 14 over, but I read a guy’s post today that they “wouldn’t ostracize somebody if they went a few words over.” I’M TRUSTING YOU, WHATEVER YOUR NAME WAS)
“But I’m doing better,” he said, half-whining. “I went down the stairs to the garden today. All by myself.”
“My goodness,” the mother said slowly. “Such a strong young man.”
“It’s nice down there,” the boy said. “I really like that big tree that hangs over the wall. It looks better when it has leaves.”
“What’s the matter?” She asked, hearing the sadness in her son’s voice. “Don’t you like this new house? We chose it just for you. So you could see the whole outside world out your window.”
“I wish I could go out and touch it, though.” The boy’s bone-pale fingers flexed at the thought.
“No. No we can’t have that.”
I have no idea what disease the little boy had. I’m going to guess vampirism. Except then he might have just burst into flame when he went down into the garden. Which might have been a bit of a tonality shift, from sober to hilarious.
Good luck, you brave writer folk!